


Honey & Hard Candy

by Violette_Pleasures



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: (but also real lube don't worry), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Blow Jobs, Bottom Carl Grimes, Cock Worship, Dom Negan (Walking Dead), Dom/sub Undertones, First Meetings, Flirting, M/M, Mild Painplay, Nice Negan (Walking Dead), Porn With Plot, Rimming, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sharing a Room, Spit As Lube, Strangers to Lovers, Top Negan (Walking Dead), if you squint really hard you can see some plot, little bit of, sub Carl Grimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-05-24 07:00:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14949831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violette_Pleasures/pseuds/Violette_Pleasures
Summary: Carl has just recently gained the freedom to go scavenging on his own, has a car so he can go further. He enjoys the alone time.Carl Grimes also had a certain way of trading, usually things for "favors". He's no stranger to using any means to get what he wants and he loves the game.A trip into a rundown farm house and stumbling across a few cans of food, makes for a chance meeting with an older man whose group just fell apart--Negan. Maybe Negan wants to play?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, yeah...I really have no excuse or explanation for this...
> 
> I'm feeling more than a little embarrassed posting this as its pretty different, I feel, from what I usually post. Its rougher and not as fluffy nice so I hope you guys can still enjoy this and have a good time?? (Negan sure does *badum tss*)

Carl pushes open the front door of an old, dusty farm house, the hinges creaking with rust and disuse. He gives another knock to the dirty frame, waiting to see if anyone or thing was inside and hadn't heard his first knock. When he's met with nothing but the sound of wind rustling the tall, dried grass near the porch, he carefully walks inside.

  
  


The light inside is cool and dim, another autumn storm is quick approaching making everything feel damp and chilly. The air in the small house is musty and the floorboards slightly bowed from being soaked through with rain water one too many times. He would have to be careful where he stepped so he wouldn't accidentally fall through and get stuck, become walker bait.

  
  


Just from the looks of the outside of it, Carl assumed there wouldn't be much to find here, but he wasn't exactly in a hurry to get back to Alexandria either. He had just recently been given the freedom to go on runs by himself and he was enjoying his alone time immensely; he'd never been one to enjoy working with others anyways. The best part was that his dad even gave him his own car so he could actually go a ways away from the community. Thankfully, no one else was allowed to use it so Carl kept it stocked and arranged the way he liked and never had to clean up after someone else.

  
  


Walking into the kitchen, Carl opens the first set of cabinets he comes to and finds them empty, but again, he isn't surprised. Food was always first priority but it was becoming scarce. He moves on to the next and the next, each one as barren as the last, until he gets to the small corner cabinet by the sink. Inside, tucked off to the side, is a stack of cans and glass jars—vegetables, pickles, even something that appears to be honey or maple syrup maybe.

  
  


Carl grins triumphantly and starts pulling everything out of the cabinet, fitting what he can into his knapsack. He's leaning almost halfway into the cabinet to grab something at the very back, when he hears the click of a cocked gun.

  
  


“Wanna tell me what the fuck you think you're doing, you little thief?”

  
  


Heart sliding up into his throat, Carl lifts both hands up in surrender and slowly turns to face whoever has a gun trained to the back of his head. Its an older man, maybe around his dad's age, a little older even, over six feet with a wiry, but sturdy build and ridiculously attractive. His black hair and salt and pepper beard both look well kempt and he can smell the scent of gun oil coming from the Beretta and fresh carnage from the barbed wire wrapped bat hanging loosely by his side in his other hand. Whoever he is, he obviously doesn't live here or, if he does, he hasn't been here long, he's much too much put together.

  
  


“You better start talking or I'm going to start shooting.” He narrows hazel colored eyes and moves half a step closer.

  
  


Honestly, the first thing Carl wants to say when he opens his mouth is “Willing to trade? Maybe some food for something a little warm blooded?” He's always been into older men and has no qualms about asking for a roll in the sheets thinly veiled under the guise of a trade; he's a horny teenager and his options are scarce, who could blame him? Usually he pairs the offer with a lip bite and a shy glance up through his lashes, cause, missing eye or no, that’s what always turns those men into putty. He isn't so sure that would work on this guy though and he doesn't have a death wish.

  
  


“I'm sorry. I didn't realize someone was living here.” Carl turns fully, remaining down on his knees and looking up at the stranger. “I'm just out scavenging for my family.”

  
  


“Your family, huh?” The man looks him over from head to toe and Carl feels like he's being undressed, which he doesn't hate nearly as much as he probably should, but this isn't exactly his first rodeo either. “How old are you, kid?”

  
  


“I'm seventeen.” He pauses to think for a moment. “At least I think I am. Not too sure what year it is anymore.”

  
  


“Seventeen? And your mommy and daddy just let you come out here into the big bad world all on your lonesome?” His rough baritone has a note of skepticism to it.

  
  


“I'm more than capable of taking care of myself, thank you.” Carl straightens up and squares his shoulders, gives a little bat of his lashes and tight smile for sarcasm's sake.

  
  


“I can see that.” The other man grins and fuck, its charming. He's got dimples and laugh lines framing the corners of his eyes and Carl can't stop the way his cheeks heat under the amused look this man is giving him. “You definitely didn't let anyone sneak up and get the drop on you or apparently notice how none of those cans have dust on them.”

  
  


Shit. He had noticed/ the cans were clean, had noted that his hands weren't covered in grey and brown when he finished pulling them all out, but was so happy to have found them, he hadn't thought anything of it in the moment.

  
  


“That messed up eye maybe have something to do with it?” The man gestures to his face with the barrel of his gun, eyes twinkling as they land on his wrapping. “What's under there anyways?”

  
  


“Nothing,” Carl shrugs one bony shoulder nonchalantly. “Or could be something.”

  
  


“Kid, don't fuck with me.”

  
  


Carl actually snorts at that because that's exactly what he wants to do with this guy.

  
  


“You think this is funny?” The guy cracks another smile like he finds Carl's amusement entertaining.

  
  


“No sir, not at all, sir.” Carl gazes up with his best, innocent, child-like look.

  
  


A red tongue flicks out over the other man's lip as his smile grows and the look on his face is one Carl knows all too well. The guy offers him his hand and Carl has the sense to at least act hesitant, eye glancing back and forth between his face and his hand, before reaching up and taking it. A thrill rushes through him at how easily the other hauls him up to his feet.

  
  


“You're polite, kid. I like people with manners. It'll get you everywhere.” He holstered his gun and twirled his bat before resting it up on his shoulder. “You got a name, kid? Unless...” That tantalizing tongue runs along his teeth, the corners of his mouth curling upwards in way that can only be described as sinful. “...you get your jollies being called 'kid' by older men.”

  
  


The blush and shock that crept over Carl's face was genuine this time. He hadn't expected this guy to catch on quite so fast. Carl was usually the one leading the game of cat and mouse, playing the mouse only to show he was really the cat all along.

  
  


“Jesus, I'm just fucking with ya, kid! Lighten up!” The older man laughs and it's a startlingly deep laugh, like he threw his whole being into it.

  
  


“I'm Carl Grimes.” Out of habit, Carl offers his hand.

  
  


“Well, shit, look at you. You are/ a polite little fucker.” The man took his hand and Carl couldn't help but notice how much larger it was than his own. “I'm Negan.”

  
  


“So, uh, you living here right now?” Carl asks, attempting to make small talk. Its the first time in a long time he's been interested in getting to know more about someone and he plans to enjoy the moment.

  
  


“For now.” Its Negan's turn to shrug. He stoops and picks up a can of peaches and starts working them open with the can opener on his army knife. “Last group didn't make it...fell apart about a week ago, give or take. This was a safe house and rendezvous point for us.” He offers the open can to Carl after he takes a sip of the thick syrup the fruit is floating in. “What about you, Carl Grimes? You're skinny as fuck, but you look well cared for.”

  
  


“My family lives in a camp not too far from here.” He gestures vaguely towards the window facing the road with the can. He scoops two slices out with his fingers before passing it back. “About a forty minute drive southeast.”

  
  


“Is it safe? Any breeches recently?” Negan leans casually back against the counter, slipping a few slices into his mouth, a drop of juice running down one of the corners and Carl wants badly to lick it up.

  
  


“No. Not since this.” Attempting to swallow down his arousal, Carl points briefly to his eye. “Had to have been almost a year ago now.”

  
  


“Are you guys accepting any more into your community right now?” This time, Negan makes no effort to hide the fact that he's blatantly checking Carl out as he looks him over again. He plucks a peach out of the can and holds it out for Carl to take, eyes sparking in challenge.

  
  


“We're always/ willing to accept new people inside/...” Carl leans in, holding Negan's intense eye contact, and sucks the juice that's dripping off the peach slice and running down the older man's fingers, gently laps a drop from his thumb, before grabbing the fruit gently between his teeth and pulling it into his mouth. “...if they can pass the test.”

  
  


“What test?” Negan's irises darken at his little display and he lifts his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean, reaching in for another peach and popping it in his own mouth.

  
  


“Before we consider taking someone in, we ask them three questions,” Carl ticks each one off on his fingers. “How many walkers have you killed?”

  
  


“Shit, I don't know. I've lost count.” The older man pauses and rubs the back of his neck, squinting off into the distance. “Dozens, I guess.”

  
  


“How many people have you killed?”

  
  


Here, Negan's lips form a tight line and he looks at Carl with a mixture of something somber and painful, something a little rage-filled, as if to say 'how dare you?'. For a long moment, Carl doesn't think he's going to get an answer, but Negan takes a deep breath and releases it on a heavy sigh.

  
  


“Awful personal question.” The other intones as he looks down at his motorcycle boots.

  
  


All Carl has to offer is a slightly sympathetic shrug and a scuff of his hiking boot on the old linoleum. “I didn't choose 'em. My dad did.”

  
  


“Hm,” The older man nods, seemingly lost in thought again. “...ten. I've personally killed ten people but witnessed and been a party to more than that.”

  
  


“Why?” Carl's heart is beating so rapidly in his chest, the word barely comes out above a whisper. When Negan gives him another guarded look, he adds. “Th-that's the third question...not me being nosy.”

  
  


“Well...sometimes, I didn't have a choice. Three of them tried to kill me first and I just happened to be a quicker draw.” Negan pauses to pull a crumpled, no doubt stale, pack of smokes out of his jacket pocket. “And six I killed trying to help other people.”

  
  


“What about the last one?”

  
  


Negan turns to look at him as he strikes a match and lights up, a small, secret smile playing at his lips as he puffs his cigarette to life. “I don't talk about the last one to anybody. Not even cute little things like you.”

  
  


“Fair enough.” Carl replies after a short pause. Now he's really damn curious, but he knows when to push. He can wait him out.

  
  


Negan passes his cigarette which Carl is more hesitant to accept. He's never smoked before, never saw the appeal in it, but this guy makes it look good. So he reaches out and takes it, brings it slowly to his lips and attempts to take a drag. The reaction is instantaneous and embarrassing: coughing, spluttering, eye watering.

  
  


“Fuck, sweetheart, is that your first time?” Negan bites his lip and smiles, lifting his brows, obviously pleased with himself for that one.

  
  


He refuses to take the damn cigarette back when Carl tries to give it to him, red cheeked and frustrated, instead moving closer. He takes the hand holding the cigarette and lifts it up to Carl's mouth again.

  
  


“There you go...open up.” Negan places a hand to the low of Carl's back and watches intently as his lips part and he balances the cigarette just inside them. “Wrap your lips around it like a good boy.”

  
  


Carl's pulse shoots through the roof at that simple phrase spoken in that deceptively gentle, gravelly tone. He wonders if Negan can hear his heart beating a tattoo on the backs of his ribs, wonders if he's noticed yet that he's starting to get hard in his jeans and they haven't even really touched yet.

  
  


“Now, when you inhale, draw it into your lungs and not just your mouth.” He pushes his palm flat against Carl's back, the tip of his pinkie finger resting right above his tailbone.

  
  


Eye trained on Negan's, he obeys, pulling in smoke like taking a breath. It burns, but nowhere near as bad as before. He holds it for a second then exhales on a shaky breath as Negan's little finger tickles the base of his spine.

  
  


“Isn't that better?” Negan grins, standing so close Carl can smell his cologne or aftershave, something rich and woodsy; he'd forgotten what that smelled like.

  
  


“Yeah.” Carl nods once. Almost as soon as he does, Negan steps away severing all contact and Carl finds himself subconsciously lurching forward, chasing after the touch. He feels all shaken up somehow as he regards the older man walking around the living room aimlessly.

  
  


Outside, the wind picks up, whistling through the loose boards near the top of the house. Rain begins to fall in large, icy drops, tink-tinking against the windows, gradually growing into the static, white-noise of a downpour. Carl's glad at least that the windows are still intact as lightening crackles purple-white and a peal of thunder echos across the sky.

  
  


“Well, its gotten pretty late and that storm seems to have rolled in.” Negan flops down onto one of the musty, old sofas sprawling out, owning the seat. He turns to look lazily out one of the bay windows, arching an eyebrow at the weather, then turns back to Carl. “Now, you can go if you really want to, wouldn't hurt my feelin's none, but you're more than welcome to stay. Its not much, but its dry and you have my word when I say you're safe here.”

  
  


His first instinct is to politely decline the offer, he doesn't know Negan, but then he looks at those intense, hazel eyes and they seem so full of promise, it feels stupid to walk away now. Negan has him intrigued. Usually, he's the one to push, but Negan seems confident enough for the both of them and it has Carl feeling off kilter in the best of ways.

  
  


“I'll, uh, I'll stay.” Carl crosses the room, standing closer to Negan.

  
  


“Good.” There's another flick of his tongue in his smile, the tip poking out at the side, and Carl tracks its movement, swallowing hard. “Then help me get these fuckin' windows covered.”

  
  


It doesn't take much time at all to get the windows in the living room covered with a stack of tarps pulled out from underneath the sofa. Someone had already taken the time to line the ledge above the windows with nails, smart thinking, so all they had to do was hang them up. The silence that passed between them as they worked didn't feel as strange. In a way, it was normal, having spent so much time growing up having to be quiet, silence was a sort of common tongue among everyone left. But still, after the way Negan had acted around him in the kitchen, he's left with a rare sense of nervousness.

  
  


They passed close to each other several times as they set up for the night and Negan didn't touch or look at him once. He had called him pretty and he's fairly sure that wanting look he had given him earlier was the same as all the men he'd been with before. Maybe he'd just been reading too much into it? Maybe he'd just been teasing? Maybe Negan just wasn't into skinny boys like him?

  
  


As the sun went down, the weather was really taking a turn for the worse. He huddles in closer to the small camping stove Negan had procured out a closet beneath the stairs, watching the little firefly sparks fluttering up as he fed a handful of twigs into the bottom of the canister. The light it emitted was low, but the heat coming off of it is impressive and thoroughly warms his icy cold hands.

  
  


Negan sits beside him while they eat, soup heated up over the stove, and he starts touching and flirting again. It isn't the same as before, not overtly amorous or seductive, its little things, like laying his little finger over Carl's when he reclines and rests his weight on his hand, brushing his bangs out of his face or leaning in to whisper something into his ear. He's never been treated this way before, almost delicate and sweet, and he's certain all the blood in his body is rushing up to his cheeks or down between his thighs.

  
  


Part of him hates it. He hates not knowing what to do or how to act. He's always been exceptionally good at reading people, its how he's played his little game so well, but Negan is different. Its like the man himself doesn't even know what his intentions are. If it weren't for the mischievous glimmer he keeps catching in his eyes, he might believe that Negan was just acting on impulse, but Carl knows he isn't, he's working towards something. He can feel it in the pit of his stomach. Negan is playing his own game and not giving Carl any hint as to what the rules are.

  
  


“I don't know about you, but I'm beat. Ready to turn in?” Negan stretches, a sliver of his low stomach and hips showing where his shirt rides up, and carries a bedroll over to the sofa he'd laid claim to earlier in the evening.

  
  


_No_. Carl wants to say petulantly. He's all wound up and horny as fuck, the last thing on his mind is sleep. But he rises and shrugs noncommittally and half glares at Negan when he looks away, collecting his own bundle to sleep with. He wonders if he casts enough longing glances in Negan’s direction if he'll eventually catch on. It was his fault he was like this anyways.

  
  


“Oh, are you giving me the cold shoulder now?” Negan chuckles when Carl doesn't answer him. “Now why would that be?”

  
  


Carl sighs, not making eye contact.“I'm just tired. Its been a long day.”

  
  


“Bull.Shit.” The man saunters over to him, unhurriedly, backing him up into the wall. He grins down at him like a hungry wolf, leveling Carl with a look that exudes confidence and I’m in control little boy and Carl's heart is pounding.

  
  


“What're you doing?” Carl lowers his chin to his chest, trying to press back into the wall as much as possible, and looks up at Negan through his brow. He feels trapped, cornered like prey.

  
  


Its a long moment with Negan searching his face for something, eyes sparkling, his mouth quirking upwards in a Cheshire cat grin when he seems to find it. “Were you planning on begging me to fuck you at some point or were you just gonna keep sitting there eye fucking me from across the room?”

  
  


“B-begging?” Carl flusters at Negan's suggestion, heart skipping to a whole new tempo. He's never begged! Why should he start now?!

  
  


“Of course. Get good and desperate, baby, show me how needy you are. Go on. Beg me for it.” The older man leans in, eyes flicking to Carl's s lips and back up to his eye right before he leans in that much closer and sucks gently at Carl's bottom lip. It slides wet from between his lips and Carl can't help the audible gasp that escapes him. “I gotta know you want it, need it real bad… or else why waste my time?”

  
  


Negan is so cocksure from his stance, hips pressed forward into Carl’s, back straight, pulled up to his full height, to the grin stretching across his lips, Carl knows he’s fucked, so so fucked. This man is going to wreck him.

  
  


“Well, what’s it gonna be, doll?” He thumbs Carl’s lips, staring at them intently. “You gonna start begging me to allow you to ride my cock?”

  
  


Carl's breathing is coming in harsher, chest noticeably rising and falling with each breath. He genuinely has no idea what to say or how to entice Negan to give him what he wants, he's never really _had_ to say anything before. He furrows his brows up at the man with a head tilt, earning him a chuckle.

  
  


“Aw, did those cute little puppy dog eyes work with your last lay?” There’s a cold edge to his voice and in the corners of his smile, he’s all predator and eyeing Carl up like he’s about to pounce and tear him to shreds. He grabs the boy’s ass and drags their hips together hard and rough. “Cuz that shit don’t work with me. You want something, you open that gorgeous, fuckable mouth of yours and ask real nicely.”

  
  


“P-please?” Carl manages to stutter out as he hardens in his jeans and is assaulted by the hard line of the other man’s cock. The rougher than usual treatment makes his mind flicker and his body shudder; its been so long since his last time and he's overly sensitive.

  
  


“Please what?” Negan teases. The sudden switch from calm to whatever this is is giving Carl whiplash and he wonders what personality he's going to see next.

  
  


“Please…” Carl swallows down his nerves and his pride because in the end, this will get him what he wants and he's just desperate enough to comply. “...will you fuck me?”

  
  


“Hm, I don’t know, I don’t think you want it badly enough yet.” He rolls his hips hard, rutting up against Carl, moving in closer until their chests are flush and their mouths are almost touching.

  
  


“I do! I’ve just nev–”

  
  


He cuts Carl off. “Convince me.”

  
  


Carl is left stuck to his spot with his back against the wall when Negan steps back and crosses his arms across his broad chest, widening his stance. The power and control he exudes has Carl’s mouth watering. Negan arches a brow at Carl, daring him.

  
  


With a quiet huff, Carl falls heavily to his knees and reaches out for the man’s belt. He doesn’t try to unbuckle it, just grips it with his fingers like he’s hanging on for dear life as he peers up at the man with pink cheeks and licks his lips. “Please?” It’s barely more than a whisper, so submissive it makes his stomach hurt, but the smirk on the other’s face let’s him know he was heard. Tentatively he moves forward and rubs his cheek against the bulge in the man’s pants, can't believe how big it feels, touches his nose to it and breathes in his masculine scent, exhaling on a sigh. “You smell so good.” He parts his lips, eye falling shut, and mouths at the hard line of his cock, panting hot across the hardened flesh earning him a gravelly moan. “Please…I want to…”

  
  


“Want to what, honey?” The older man reaches down and grabs Carl’s jaw almost painfully, forcing eye contact. “Eyes on me. Look away again and I'm putting an end to this. I’m not fucking someone who won’t look at me, no matter how cute their little ass is.”

  
  


“I-I…” Carl can barely breathe under the man’s intense, steely gaze and the words get stuck in his throat until his face is given a rough shake. “I want you to fuck me.”

  
  


“How?” Negan purrs, a deep baritone rumble.

  
  


“Uhm, any way?” Carl tilts his head again. He really doesn’t care he just needs to get this man’s dick inside him right now if not sooner.

  
  


“That’s cheating, doll. I want to give you what you want, but if I don’t even know what that is, how can I give it to you?” He releases Carl’s jaw, instead resting the hand on his head, pulling his face into his crotch, rubbing his bulge lightly against his cheek. “Be descriptive. Tell me exactly what you want.”

  
  


“I want you to bend me over and fuck me until we both come.” His words are mumbled against a zipper, he feels stupid the moment they leave his mouth, but he’s still praised with a hum and a pat on the head for speaking. “…I want you to come inside me.”

  
  


“And where do you want me to fuck you and fill you up? A bed? On the kitchen counter? Out here, up against the wall? If it wasn't pissing rain right now, I'd offer to fuck you outside, but I'm not exactly eager to catch pneumonia.”

  
  


A whine escapes Carl’s throat before he can stop it at that last option.

  
  


“Oh, you like that idea?” Negan smirks. “You want to get fucked where everyone can hear you? Where anyone could see just how much you love taking dick?”

  
  


It was more that he enjoyed the idea of sunshine on his bare skin than any kink about getting caught. Being naked outdoors sounded like a fun indulgence. But the idea of someone from his own group catching him in the middle of being split wide open on this man’s sizable length made him flush with shame and tingle with excitement at the same time. He nods bashfully, and god, he couldn't remember the last time he actually felt genuinely bashful, because it was at least half true.

  
  


“Here against the wall is fine.”

  
  


“Alright then, I can do that for you.” Negan tugs down the zipper on his leather jacket, pushing it off his shoulders, tossing it towards the couch, and pulls his shirt off over his head to reveal an impressive chest covered in grey and black hair and littered with scars in various states of healing. He makes a real show of slowly unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, pulling his cock out through the v of the opening. He snickers at his blatant staring. “I’d tell you to take a picture, give you a little something to jerk off too later, but it’s the apocalypse and all.”

  
  


Carl stares wide eyed and gulps. He’s so done for. Negan’s cock was just as thick and heavy as it had felt through the worn fabric of his jeans, even full it hung heavy against his thigh. But it was even more impressive like this on full display, the fair skin of his uncut cock an eye catching contrast to his well tanned chest and arms.

  
  


“Come here and get this cock wet. And do a good job of it because it’s all the lube you’re getting, am I understood?” Negan lazily jerks his cock, the foreskin rolling up and down the head, forcing a bead of precum to drip in a slow motion string from the tip. Even like this, half naked, dick in hand, he was still in charge.

  
  


Carl nods, words seemingly abandoning him for the time being, but it's okay, it seemed like Negan could talk enough for the both of them, and scoots forward to replace Negan’s hand with his own. They're finally crossing into familiar territory, this he knows how to do without question. He spits thick into his hands and wraps both around the older man’s thick length. The head and a couple inches before it remains uncovered, bobbing teasingly in front of Carl’s lips.

  
  


“That’s it, get me nice and wet, baby.” Negan groans when Carl gives him a particularly hard squeeze that milks another drop of precum from his dick, Carl’s tongue darting out to catch it. A humiliating, sickly sort of pride blooms in Carl's chest at being able to make Negan react that way. “God, you are cock starved aren’t you?” His voice resonates deep with lust. “Only reason a sweet angel like you would fall down like a sinner in church ready to take communion for my dick.”

  
  


Blushing afresh, Carl demures, looking up through thick, inky lashes. Slowly he begins working Negan’s cock into his mouth, really taking his time as his jaw is stretched to the max to accommodate. _Fuck_ is all he can think, letting out another whine as the silky skin of the underside of the shaft glides along his tongue. It was only his first taste and Carl was already addicted.

  
  


“Fuck, there you go.” Rocking his hips forward a little, Negan allows him to adjust for a moment. The kid’s mouth was like heaven, wet, warm and undeniably skilled. But he wasn't here for slow and steady, he was hear to blow the kid’s mind and wreck his body. Fisting Carl’s long, silky hair, he shoves his dick down his throat without warning, pistoning his hips in and out of the tight cavern. “That’s it…lemme see you choke on it...”

  
  


Eyes watering, Carl does his best to let Negan take and control him. It was easily the hardest his throat has ever been fucked and he knew there would be no way of hiding his sore raspy voice later. Shame washes over him at how much he's enjoying being used like this, it doesn't seem like something normal people would get off on, but as it is, he's so turned on, he can't bring himself to tell Negan to stop. He closes his eyes, grabbing his own cock through his jeans and gives a squeeze to take the edge off, and tries to center himself and breathe when he gets the chance.

  
  


“Hey,” a sharp snap snap snap right by his ear has Carl looking up to Negan again. “Eyes open and on me. Don’t want me to stop do you?”Carl shakes his head minutely, dick still half down his throat, eye watering, making Negan chuckle. “You look so pretty with my dick down your throat, baby.”

  
  


After a few more minutes of having his throat fucked raw, he’s being hauled to his feet none too gently. The idea of taking the older man with nothing but spit for lube makes his insides clench in anticipation of the pain. But he’s not about to back down now.

  
  


“Strip. Lemme see that gorgeous body I know you got hiding under all those layers.”

  
  


Obeying instantly, so needy and hard he can barely stand it, Carl lets his thigh holster fall with a clunk to the ground, his jeans and underwear following suit. He unbuttons and pushes his flannel off his skinny shoulders and lets it slip the rest of the way off on its own. His Sheriff's hat is the last thing to join the pile on the ground.

  
  


“Goddamn! Look at you!” Negan praises openly, looking Carl over hungrily. “Perfect little twink, aren't you? All small with the bounciest ass I’ve seen in years…give us a turn.” He twirls his finger to show him to turn around. “Hands on the wall…legs apart…” He nudges Carl's legs slightly further apart with the toe of his boot and pushes his low back into a deep bend.”...yeah, just like that, boy.”

  
  


A large hand comes down hard on Carl’s ass making him wince. Another harsh slap has him drawing a sharp breath between his teeth. Why can't Negan just get on with it? Why does he have to spank him? And why does it turn him on so much?

  
  


Carl squirms impatiently while Negan comments on how tight and perky his backside is again and roams his big hands all over Carl’s body in appraisal. He hears the wet noise of a finger sucked between parted lips and his hole is being assaulted, stretched half dry on a thick finger. The pain isn’t immense but it can't be easily ignored either. And he still wants to try and fit his giant dick in him too.

 

“Fuck you are tight…been a while since someone had the privilege of plowing you good, hm?” Negan smirks and huffs a laugh at the indignant look Carl shoots him. “If you weren’t so sweet I’d punish you for not using your damn words like I told you to, but we just met, so I’ll be nice this once. Next time? No leniency.”

  
  


The idea of a next time nearly makes Carl choke on air. He can't imagine what being treated this way regularly would be like. Something like excitement and dread swirls around inside him in a heavy mixture. Being owned by a man like Negan would be bliss, there's no denying he's getting off on playing the submissive this time, but he doesn't know if his body could handle being taken this harshly all the time. Would Negan be nice sometimes? Or was sadistic his default setting?

  
  


Negan moves down to kneel behind the sweet piece of hard candy that seems to have just fallen into his lap and spreads his adorable cheek with the hand not fingering the boy open and licks up the center from balls to the base of his spine. Carl lets out a reedy wail that he tries to muffle with his forearm as he works his tongue into his pucker alongside his finger. The next finger goes in much more easily with the aid of his spit, turning the teen’s tight hole into a messy, wet little gape that flutters around nothing when he suddenly withdraws his fingers.

  
  


Carl moans, frustrated when his prostate is purposely ignored and is near tears when Negan’s fingers leave him. Doesn’t he understand how empty he feels? How badly he needs that space filled up? This slow torture is killing him; he's trembling head to toe, body aching for something, anything. As time stretches and the other shows no signs of moving back in, Carl breaks down.

  
  


“Please…do it again…give me your fingers, please…anything…” He knows how pathetic he sounds but is surprised to find he doesn't care so long as it gets him what he wants. “Please, Negan?”

  
  


Wordlessly, Negan moves up behind Carl and lines his cock up with the cleft of his ass. He squeezes his cheeks together to give himself a nice funnel to leisurely fuck into. The head grazes Carl’s twitching entrance every few thrusts and he smiles smugly when it only serves to make the him whimper more.

  
  


“Please please please…I want it.” Carl whispers under his breath, the dry drag of skin on skin setting his nerve endings on fire. If Negan didn't hurry, he was going to blow his load before he even got inside him. “Negan…please….give me…”

  
  


It felt like salvation when Negan leans in over his back to husk next to his ear “I believe you now.”

  
  


He can hear the smugness in his voice but damn if it doesn't just turn him on more.

  
  


Negan places a hand next to the boy’s on the wall and shoves two fingers into Carl’s mouth unexpectedly, humming in approval when he starts to suck. “Good boy. You know just what to do, don't you?”

  
  


He nods without much thought, even if he's just been playing this whole thing by ear.

  
  


“Feel how those precious cock sucking lips wrap around my fingers?” Negan sucks and licks the side of Carl's neck making him moan around the fingers in his mouth. Carl feels the cruel grin as it forms right against his throbbing pulse point. “Pretty easy compared to how wide you had to open up that pretty mouth when I fucked your throat, right?”

  
  


Oh. Shit.

  
  


Carl’s heart thunders in his chest. Maybe he really had bitten off more than he could chew. Maybe he’d been a little too ambitious. But some part of him is about to go weak in the knees with want, with how badly he wants to try and take it all.

  
  


“I still want it.” He slurs bravely around the fingers still toying with tongue, making drool run down his chin.

  
  


“I know you do, doll.” Negan purrs in that deep rumble again. “Remember what I said earlier?” He chuckles wickedly at Carl’s wide eyed look he tosses over his shoulder. “That’s right. My tongue and two fingers, that’s all the prep I'm giving you. Still want this little boy?”

  
  


“…yes.”

  
  


“Yes what?”

  
  


“Yes, please, I still want it.” Carl lets out a shaky breath and stoops to grab something out of his pants pocket–a small bottle of lube he always kept with him these days. He hadn’t had a use for it in a while, so there's plenty left. He bites his lip and furrows his brow in a way he hopes looks pitiable as he hands the bottle to Negan like a puppy handing over the ball they just fetched. “Please? I know what you said, but I’m…its been so long…and I’m small and you’re so…so not small–”

  
  


“Shut the hell up kid and turn around.” Negan snatches the bottle out of the kid's hand and gruffs the order out, waiting for Carl to resume his position. He’d been about two seconds away from kissing the boy senseless with how damn cute and nervous he was acting. But that would’ve completely destroyed the power imbalance and he likes having the upper hand too much.

  
  


“Just this once since its your first time with me.” He squeezes a large dollop onto his fingers and smears it across his cock and Carl’s hungry little pucker. Moving in closer, he runs the head of his dick up and down over the tender entrance teasingly. “Here you go, honey, just what you’ve been wanting.” He presses forward, pushing into the small body before him.

  
  


If he thought the pain of a couple of dry fingers was intense, taking Negan’s huge cock with minimal prep is earth shattering. The man isn't gentle at all, just forces his way in in one, steady, deep thrust. Carl keens hurt and broken sounding when Negan grinds his hips into his backside. Absently, he reaches down and places a hand on his stomach, wondering if he'll feel Negan moving inside him. He feels lucky that this isn't his first time or he would be woefully unprepared; even though it isn't he still feels unprepared for this.

  
  


“Its like you were made for fuckin’…tight and hot as a wet silk glove.” Negan grabs onto the place where neck and shoulder meet on either side and uses the grip to leverage his dick in and out of the boy. “Its like you're sucking on my cock, angel. Fuck me, you're so damn tight.”

  
  


Carl whimpers and moans, doesn't bother with trying to keep his voice in, knows he can't anyways. The pain and pleasure of being so full, so stretched, of being _used_ is exquisite. Whatever wires in his brain that were crossed that told him pain is good are lighting up, singing with wild, fast blurring electricity crackling down his limbs to his fingers and toes. He's completely at Negan's mercy and loving every second or it. He reaches down to take himself in hand, glowering when he is swatted away.

  
  


“Don’t give me that look. I will leave you here gaping and just as horny as you were sucking peach juice off my fingers.” Negan warns, tone not leaving any room for argument. He twists the arm he swatted up behind the teen’s back just short of painful. “No touching, princess. You come on my cock or not at all, is that clear?”

  
  


“Y-yes!”

  
  


“Can you do that? Can you make me proud and come on my dick like a good boy?” Negan knows he’s hit the nail on the head when Carl gasps at the nickname. Of course, sweet puppy like him would be just as starved for approval and praise as he was for dick, probably more so.

  
  


“Yeah? You like that? You wanna be a good boy?” He croons, voice suddenly taking on honey-butterscotch sweet tones. “You wanna be _my_ good boy, Carl? I know you do. I know you wanna take this cock like a champ and make a mess all over the floor for me, don't you?” He coaxes further, his thumb rubbing absentminded circles in the center of the palm pinned behind the boy’s back. “But you gotta ask before you come…”

  
  


Just that little bit of kindness in his voice shoves Carl right to the edge full force. He clenches down hard fighting off orgasm.

  
  


"Fuck you just got even tighter. You about to come?”

  
  


“Y-yes, sir. Please let me…” The stream of words is mindless babble to Carl’s ears, just what he knows he has to trade with this man for his release. “Please, sir, I’ve been good…please?”

  
  


“Calling me 'sir’ now too?” Drawing back until just the head was inside Carl, Negan slams home only to withdraw and do it over and over, amused with how the kid’s cock bounces with each well aimed thrust to his sensitive prostate. “That respectful shit will get you far, kid. Go on then. Come. Right now.”

  
  


One, two more bone jarring thrusts and Carl is coming, Negan’s answering growl to his orgasm tipping him over the edge entirely and he's painting the wall and floorboards with white. His smaller cock goes limp almost immediately, slowly dripping with the come still flowing from him. A large hand suddenly wraps around him and starts jerking his spent length rough and fast. “No! Too much!”

  
  


“Shut your damn mouth. The grown up isn't through with you yet, little boy.” Negan continues to milk the boy’s cock, wringing desperate whines and moans from him. Those little sounds of pain are music to his ears. “Just take it and I’ll fill you so full of my come it’ll still be leaking out of you tomorrow, promise.”

  
  


The pressure on his dick and to his abused prostate is just about more than he can handle. It makes him jittery and on edge, pushing him to the verge of tears. It kind of clicks then that’s what Negan was probably waiting for. He’s had “partners” in the past that liked to make him cry, so he quits biting back the tears and lets them flow freely, sobbing for the older man’s pleasure.

  
  


“Oh baby boy, look at you. So sweet, crying for me. Does it feel that good?” Again his voice holds that false sweetness to it that was more teasing than actual affection. Moving in he licks a tear track off Carl’s cheek. Negan curses under his breath and buries himself as deep as he can into the pliant body before him and came. His cock throbs, releasing spurt after spurt of cum, ab muscles twitching hard as he climaxes. He releases the hand he has locked behind the boy’s back and slides his cock out slowly. When the head catches, he pauses, waits for Carl to loosen up a bit more before he finishes pulling out and watches as his cum pours out of Carl’s beautiful, wrecked hole. That’s a sight that would stay with him for a while.

They both stand there a while longer, catching their breath. Carl has his forehead pressed against the wall so hard it almost hurts and Negan is draped ho-hum over his back. Their bodies slide slick with sweat against each other. Carl is surprised when Negan brings a hand up to gingerly stroke his stomach.

“Alright, bedtime now.” Moving easily around him, like nothing happened between them, Negan gathers his shirt and slides it on and tucks himself back in.

  
  


Carl lingers for a moment, making no move to redress, still trying to catch his breath and wiping tears away furiously. Now that it's over he does feel sated slightly, but mostly sore all over. His hole feels like it was radiating heat with how much it stings.

  
  


“Alright, come here.” Negan motions him over with a wave of his hand and helps Carl with his clothes. It's shocking how kind he acts, how careful he is as he slips Carl's arms through the sleeves of his shirt and pulls his baggy jeans up over his hips. “Even dick drunk princesses gotta get dressed.”

  
  


The princess comment makes Carl sulk up at Negan, too tired to give him a full on glare. His skin is pleasantly warm under his clothing and it almost feels like getting a hug. He's really missing those right now.

  
  


Negan arches a brow at the boy standing around like he's expecting something more. “Hell you want kid?”

  
  


“Nothing, sorry.” Carl licks his lips, glancing hyper fast at Negan’s surrounded by his soft looking beard. “Just still a little scrambled.”

  
  


“I’m not stupid.” Clipping his holster in place, Negan crosses his arms, fingers tapping impatiently on an impressive bicep. “But if you want it, you know all you gotta do is ask.”

  
  


Stubbornly shy, Carl shuffles from foot to foot, biting his lips. Asking for something like this feels worse somehow then asking to be fucked. He is already here though, and who knows how long he’d have to wait before he got another chance like this. In for a penny, in for a pound.

  
  


“Will you…” Carl points a finger to his own lips then to Negan’s. “Can we…?”

  
  


“Words, angel.” This time the huff of laughter and head shake seems almost fond.

  
  


“Can we kiss? Will you kiss me?” He reaches out and places a hand on a strong bicep, that compared to the one already there is positively delicate and dainty, and gives the older man his biggest, glassiest puppy dog eyes.

  
  


“C'mere.” Negan cups the back of the back of Carl’s head and pulls him in for a kiss that is deceptively gentle and sweet, an undercurrent of possession weaving between them as his tongue massages against Carl’s, traces the roof of his mouth and the ridges of his teeth. A biting suck to that plump bottom lip that leaves behind a raspberry colored mark is the cherry on his sundae. The boy looks good and well fucked and owned, no doubt looking like he belongs to someone who takes care of all of his needs. Before Negan could volunteer to be that someone, he turns and walks over to the sofa and sits heavily, smiling up at Carl. “You know, if you cant sleep or need another hand with anything that /pops up./ feel free to wake me up.”

  
  


Glaring the older man, he slides his own holster onto his thigh again. He kind of hates, kind of loves the confident swagger of the man’s stride and his crass sense of humor and the way he dominates whatever space he happens to be in. His fingers clench and unclench at his side as he goes over to his bed for tonight.

  
  


The last thing he hears before drifting off, is the sound of Negan whistling some old country tune softly to himself while the rain continues to pour.

  
  


///

  
  


Carl wakes slowly at first, sunlight shining across his face from a gap in the makeshift curtains. He startles and jumps upright when he remembers the other man he'd shared the house with last night. When he looks over, it's only to find Negan is gone. His bedroll has been refolded and is sitting neatly at the opposite end of the couch. He listens hard to see if he can pick up on any trace of movement in the old house, but doesn't hear so much as a mouse running around beneath the floorboards.

  
  


He knows its stupid, but he had kind of hoped Negan would be there when he woke up. Its not that he actually _liked_ the guy or anything, its just unsettling waking up alone in an unfamiliar place. It almost makes it feel like last night had been all in his head, some sort of really weird, vivid dream, but his body protests when he goes to stand, and yeah, no that dull ache is very real.

  
  


Dust motes twinkle in the sunlight and Carl watches them swirl and fall for a moment before his eye lands on a scrap of paper folded neatly and sitting on the edge of the table under a can of pears. He unfolds it, eyes tracing over the neat, printed writing.

  
  


_Carl,_

_Sorry I had to leave before you woke up. I had to go early to check a few things out. Had fun last night. I hope I get to see that beautiful face again sometime soon._

♥ _Negan_

  
  


Carl stares at the little hand drawn heart next to Negan's signature disdainfully. That guy was so damn weird.

  
  


///

  
  


The winding, hilly roads that lead to Alexandria are soon rolling by beneath Carl's tires, trees flying by in a blur of orange and red and gold. There's something nice about knowing he's almost home, close to seeing Judy and sleeping in his own bed for a change. He finds the longer he's gone, the stronger that feeling becomes until it's like he's being pulled back.

  
  


When the gate rolls open, Carl is surprised to find Rick is on gate duty, which is a rare thing these days, he's usually too busy with keeping the place running to stand watch or operate the gate.

  
  


“Hey, glad you're back.” Rick smiles as Carl pulls through. Once the gates are shut, Carl hops out of his car and gives his dad a good, tight hug. Rick laughs and pats his back. “You alright there, buddy?”

  
  


“Yeah...yeah. Just been a long night with the storm and everything.” Carl sighs and steps back, offering a small smile.

  
  


“Did you find a safe place to hunker down for the night?”

  
  


“Yeah, some old farm house.”

  
  


“Good good.” Rick pauses for a moment and rubs the back of his neck. “Well lets get you unloaded. Did you find anything good?”

  
  


They work easily around each other, unloading the big, plastic boxes from the trunk. He'd managed to find some more blankets and clothes and some food, even a few seed packets from someone's cellar. They might've gone bad though as they smell a little mildewy, but its worth trying.

  
  


As they were grabbing and organizing the last of it, Rick spoke up. “I forgot to tell you, we have a new neighbor. Can't believe it slipped my mind.”

  
  


“We do?” Carl asks with a skeptical, furrowed brow. “You guys let someone new into the community? Its been months.”

  
  


“Yeah, I know, but Maggie, Daryl, Michonne and I interviewed him earlier this morning and we all agreed. We've put him in the house next to ours so we can keep an eye on him for now.” Rick sets a few cans up on the wire wrack and dusts his hands off. “C'mon, I'll introduce you.”

  
  


Carl follows his dad out of the store room and around the corner, passing by their house and glances up at Judy's bedroom window, eager to see her again. Just before they walk up the steps of the front porch to the neighboring house, Rick turns to him and stops.

  
  


“Now, this guy, he's...well—different is the polite way of putting it. He's got an odd since of humor and is a little touchy, just so you're prepared. He walked right up and hugged Daryl. You should've seen his face.” Rick grins and keeps his voice low, gesturing with his hands as he always does when he speaks. “But I think he's a good guy and I think you'll like him too.” He goes up the last few steps, Carl lingering behind slightly, and knocks three times at the door.

  
  


After a beat, the door swings open and a recently familiar voice drawls in greeting. “Afternoon, Sheriff.”

  
  


Carl's jaw drops. Standing there, in the door way, is an attractive man about his dad's age with a cat got the cream grin and hazel eyes that would be the haunt of Carl's dreams for weeks to come.

  
  


“Hey, I wanted to stop by and introduce you to my son.” Rick motions for Carl to come closer and say hello. “This is Carl.”

  
  


Carl steps up, wide eyed, heart pounding, and offers the older man his hand as waves of dejavu roll over him. He stutters out “Nice to meet you” as he takes his much larger hand and locks eyes with him.

  
  


“Carl, this is Negan.” Rick so helpfully supplies, completely unaware of the internal panic attack his son is currently having.

  
  


“Nice to meet you, Carl.” Negan's smile grows wider as his thumb traces a tight circle in the center of Carl's hand before he releases it, sending shivers down his spine. “So you're the Sheriff's kid, huh?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was kind unsure if I should add another chapter to this as I feel I inevitably ruin a good fic by adding more to it, but eh, here it is and I hope you all like it and think it fits well with the previous chapter. Fair warning, Negan is a little nicer this time around, so I apologize for the switch in character and the abrupt turn to fluffy town this takes, but you know with me, that's how things usually go TwT 
> 
> **Also, trigger warning for some breath play type stuff towards the end**
> 
> Anyways, without further rambling...

It takes two weeks. Two whole weeks before Negan starts talking to him again. Really talking, not just mindless “Hey, how are you?” “I'm good, you?”, but sharing cigarettes behind houses (Carl's found he's really developed a taste for them now), catching up with each other for lunch and sharing guard shifts, talking about life before and since. Conversation is easy enough, and he's enjoying hearing Negan's stories, but they never talk about that day in the farm house just forty miles north from here. Negan never brings it up and neither does Carl.

 

Its like he's getting to know Negan: good citizen, ex-teacher (now that was a real surprise), community minded, all around good guy. And its nice. He likes knowing Negan isn't all rough edges and sharp corners, but he really wants to see all his thorns and brambles again, sort of misses it. He wants that special kind of attention Negan gave him that felt both like a slap across the face and a kiss pressed to his lips.

 

It's weird for him to even consider seeing a “partner” again, let alone to feel this odd, aching somewhere in his chest nestled just behind his ribs. Negan's note had said he had a good time and wanted to see Carl again, but anyone can write anything down and not mean it. The words could've just been empty placation in case they never did see each other again.

 

But they did.

 

And it feels weird.

 

And stranger still, Carl can't figure out what Negan wants from him. One moment, he's acting like they're best friends and then the next, Carl swears he's flirting with him. The way his voice inflects when he says 'Fuck, there you go...' when he's teaching Carl how to change a spark plug, sounds exactly like it did when he'd shoved his cock down Carl's throat. And the way he's always calling him pretty or telling him he's got the face of an angel, even though its usually said jokingly, makes his cheeks hot and goes straight to his dick.

 

But the moment Carl goes to make a move, to retaliate a little, Negan keeps him at arms length or feigns ignorance. He even goes so far as to call Negan 'sir' a few times like he had before; 'Get up that ladder.' 'Yes, sir.' 'Come here.' 'Okay, sir.' All that gets him is a stern look, intense eye contact that makes Carl feel he's messed up somehow, so he drops it.

 

He feels like Negan is teasing him, holding what Carl wants just out of reach, taunting him. If the smug looks and grins Carl's reactions seem to give him are any indication of his intentions, then Negan is definitely enjoying stringing him along. But to what purpose? Does he just want to wind Carl up? Does he actually want him? Carl can't decide with all the mixed signals he keeps getting.

 

They have the late watch together tonight and Carl resolves to ask him then. Maybe it'll be easier when all is dark and quiet. Maybe rain will start to fall again.

 

///

 

Carl feels nervous of all things. He can't understand why he's so concerned about what Negan will have to say. He's never cared before but when he goes to speak, he takes one look at Negan, just a sideways glance at whiskey colored eyes and laugh lines, and his heart starts beating harder and he's actually worried he's going to ruin things by asking. What they have now, this kind of friendship is nice. Even though he's sitting right there, pressed thigh to thigh with Carl in the guard tower on a random section of the wall, it feels like Negan is just out of arm's reach.

 

“So, uh, I was kinda hoping you were going to say something first, but it doesn't seem like you're going to...” Carl starts, biting his lip and looking out into the inky pitch of the forest, tree branches highlighted in silver from the near full moon. It feels safe to talk now, maybe, with the crickets chirping and frogs singing falling like white noise around them.“But, that day...when we met...are...will we--?”

 

“I'm gonna stop you right there, kiddo.” Negan takes a deep breath and lets it out in a loud, stilted sigh as he finds his words. “That's not something we can or really should be worrying about right now. I just got here, I don't want to jeopardize that. Your dad and his merry band of gentlemen and women are still eyeing me like a hawk.”

 

“Oh. Yeah. Y-you're right.” Carl furrows his brow and shakes his head like doing so would clear the thoughts right out of his mind. “It's too soon...”

 

There's a long pause that follows and Carl is so lost in thought he barely notices the unreadable look Negan gives him before turning his attention back towards the treeline.

 

///

 

Carl finds any and every excuse to spend time with Negan, takes extra watch shifts, goes scavenging with the older man, even tracks him down a few times on non-scheduled time. Negan doesn't seem to mind it, in fact he seems to kind of enjoy it maybe, at least, that's what Carl convinces himself of. He's never turned away or told to give him space, Negan usually just stops what he's doing to see what Carl wants then goes back to it or tries to include him somehow, teaches him about this and that in their time together. Some of it Carl already knows, but he's not about to tell Negan that.

 

He catches odd looks on his dad and Michonne's faces a few times while he's trailing after Negan like a lost duckling to which he answers with his own dramatic (bratty) look and goes on his way. Rick even asks him about it a few times, asks why Carl seems to always be hanging around Negan, surely he must be bugging the older man and Carl just shrugs and says something about Negan being funny and how he has stories to tell that he hasn't heard a million times over. That seems to make Rick smile, that warm fatherly smile like Carl was just a kid still interested in story time and that pretty much puts an end to the questioning.

 

///

 

It takes a month before Negan is given his own house, a smaller one towards the back of the safe-zone.

 

That's also how long it takes for Negan to touch him. More than a handshake or a high five or being grabbed and yanked out of the way of a snarling walker. And Carl doesn't realize how starved for touch he is until it happens.

 

“There's my little puppy! I'd wondered where you ran off to today.” Negan grins at him, white teeth and dimples on full display.

 

“I'm not a puppy, butthead.” Carl narrows his eyes at Negan.

 

“Coulda fooled me with how you're always following me around and come whenever I call.” The older man laughs and reaches out to ruffle Carl's hair, which he barely manages to dodge. “Who's my good boy?”

 

“God, you are such a dick!” Carl blushes furiously and turns on his heel, starting to stomp off in the direction of the armory when he's stopped by a hand snagging the collar of his shirt. He's about to let loose on Negan, but stops when his hand comes up again, slower this time.

 

“Alright, sorry about the puppy thing, but get that damn hair out of your face, kid. You look like fuckin' Cousin It walking around here.” Negan grumbles jokingly and brushes Carl's bangs out of his face, tucking them behind his ear. “There we go! Much better!”

 

Carl just stands there for a moment in a mixture of shock and something that feels sort of like relief. Negan had touched him. Before he really has time to think it through, he shakes his bangs back down into his face and looks up at Negan defiantly.

 

Negan bites the inside of his lip as his eyes narrow. That filthy red tongue pokes between his teeth with his smirk and Carl hones in on it, following each movement. He tucks the hair back behind Carl's ear again, letting his fingertips slowly glide down the back of it, giving Carl shivers. The older man chuckles quietly to himself and turns to go about his business.

 

///

 

It takes Carl a week after that to work up the courage to go knock on Negan's door. This whole thing feels so damn weird. Usually, everyone is chasing after him, but now he's chasing after someone and he doesn't even know if the guy is all that interested or if maybe this whole time he's been trying to let him down easy. 'Lets just be friends, yeah?' That thought made Carl sick to his stomach.

 

Finally, he urges himself up the six steps to Negan's porch and knocks on the door. He stands there, rocking back and forth on his heels, waiting for what feels like a small eternity to his thundering heart.

 

“Yes?” The door swings open and Carl's mouth goes dry. Negan is standing there in a buttercream yellow polo and khaki slacks and, really, that shouldn't be as hot as it is, but something about the teacher or maybe even the dad factor, makes Carl get a semi in record speed. His eyes rove from top to bottom and back again, ending with the grin on Negan's lips. “Can I help you, Carl?”

 

“I, uh, I--” Carl's mouth opens and closes several times and whatever he had wanted to say is long gone now. “I was wondering if we could talk?”

 

One of Negan's brows arches upward skeptically, but he steps aside and motions for Carl to enter. “Sure. But I don't have long.”

 

“What? Is there a PTO meeting tonight?” Carl smirks as he walks in, somehow regaining his footing enough to tease the older man.

 

Negan's house is smaller than his family's, more of a two story townhouse with the living room and kitchen downstairs and the bed and bath upstairs. Carl had explored it when they first got to Alexandria just to satisfy teenage curiosity laced with boredom. The place is neat and tidy, unexpectedly so, shoes set in a row by the door, fresh flowers in a vase on the kitchen counter, even a bowl of fruit is sitting out on the coffee table. The only thing that doesn't seem to have a place is Negan's leather jacket, draped haphazardly off the back of the plush grey sofa. He wonders if Negan's bedroom is just as orderly.

 

“No, actually, I have a date.” Standing at the mirror in the entryway, Negan adjusts his shirt. “What do you think? Too much? I haven't dressed like this since before all this bullshit.” He gestures vaguely to the whole world.

 

“A date?” Carl knows he said something else after that, but he's still stuck on that part in particular.

 

“Yeah. Its this wild thing grown ups do with other grown ups where we eat food and talk and if we're lucky,” He winked, “We _get_ lucky.”

 

It feels like the rug just got yanked right out from under his feet. A date. Negan was going on a date. With someone that was not him. He doesn't know why, but for some reason, he finds that thought infuriating. Well, if he's honest with himself, he does have a hint as to why that's so irksome, but he doesn't want to think about his own immature foolishness right now.

 

“I know what a date is, jerk face.” Carl tries to put up his usual sassy front, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the wall, and probably barely makes it believable. “And you look fine, I guess.”

 

“You guess? Kid, I look awesome.” Negan grins

 

, lopsided and playful and Carl just wants to throw up right there on his floral print rug. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

 

“You know? It doesn't matter anymore.” He kicks the edge of the rug with his dirty hiking boot, leaving a faint brown smudge in the day lily blue edging. He moves towards the door, hand on the handle. “I'll, uhm, see you tomorrow, I guess. Guard duty on the west wall, right? And, uh yeah, good luck?”

 

“Carl--”

 

“Bye, Negan.”

 

Carl can't make it home fast enough. He books it up the stairs, Michonne calling after him not to slam the front door closed for the millionth time. He flops onto his bed and grabs his pillow, buries his face grumpily into the feathers and foam.

 

It shouldn't matter! It shouldn't! Its so fucking dumb! But the more he thinks about it, the madder he gets. He's mad at Negan, mad at whoever he's seeing tonight, and more importantly, mad at himself for letting feelings develop where they didn't belong, like grass growing up through a crack in the sidewalk. Something so small and soft would eventually grow and start working away at the cement, slowly crumbling the entire slab if left unchecked. Carl felt like that cement slab right now.

 

In a whim of childish anger, Carl grabs the thing nearest to him, an empty plate from lunch, and whips it at the wall, finding the high clink-smash very satisfying.

 

“Whoa there, darlin'. Should I come back later?”

 

The lazy drawl of that infinitely amused voice made Carl push up off his bed, looking right at the asshole he'd been thinking about. He really hated how much of his thoughts were consumed by this man.

 

“You should come back never.” Carl mumbles under his breath as he sits up, looking down at the beige carpet. He scoots over when Negan invites himself in, door clicking and locking shut behind him. The bed dips and Carl with it when he finally sits down.

 

“Is that how you really feel?” And there's that world-weary sigh again which always seemed to be reserved just for Carl and he is getting real sick of hearing it.

 

“Does it matter how I feel?”

 

Confusion must be dripping from him voice because Negan replies almost instantly. “Of course it does. What's got you so upset you're going Greek on your plates?”

 

“Huh?” Carl cocks his head to the side.

 

“Never mind. Just, what's on your mind?”

 

“Nothing.” He shrugs one shoulder, being purposefully obstinate. Why did his feelings matter all of a sudden? He'd already made it clear that he didn't care how Carl felt about anything or else he wouldn't be going on this stupid date with some dumb bimbo...

 

“Is it something I said earlier?” Negan's voice drops into something almost soft, but still strong, as if to say I can be your shoulder to cry on. Carl wonders if that was his teacher voice. “Is it the date? Should I not go?”

 

“Since when do you need my permission to do anything, Negan?” With a huff, Carl crosses his arms over his chest and pointedly looks anywhere but at Negan.

 

“So it is the date.” Carl really wants to slap the smug smirk off his face that follows his statement. “Why does that bother you?”

 

“It doesn't! I want you to go! Go have fun.” Carl waves his hands, trying to shoo Negan away. A strong hand comes down on Carl's thigh, just high enough that a little finger touches the head of his dick, and squeezes.

 

“Listen here, you little brat,” Suddenly Negan's voice is no longer gentle and soft, but dark and heavy, like black velvet, an almost growled out sound. He leans into Carl's space until their noses almost touch. “If you don't start telling me the truth, I'm going to stop talking to you.” He snaps his fingers when Carl's eye flickers away from his gaze. “Eyes on me or I leave.”

 

Carl's heart is hammering hard, he's breathing harder, _everything_ is  hard. Just a glimpse of that dominance and Carl is ready to crumble willingly and let Negan take root.

 

“There is no fucking date, Carl.” His pinkie finger moves over the tip of Carl's rapidly hardening cock. “I'm going with Aaron to meet the leader over at Hilltop and I was told he's a fussy prick and likes things neat, so I wore something more professional, understand?”

 

He doesn't know how, but Carl manages to nod dumbly, most of his attention focusing on the touches to his cock and how Negan's hand is sliding higher and, oh fuck, grabbing and massaging him through his jeans. Carl doesn't think he could've stopped the whimper that bleeds out from between his lips if he tried. The pressure increases to an almost painful level when Carl doesn't give him an answer.

 

“Carl. Words. What did I say?” Negan's eyes are dark like coffee, like night and all of that heady attention is focused in on Carl.

 

“W-words. Next time, n-no exceptions.”

 

Negan looks almost surprised that Carl remembered that; which of course he did, he'd been thinking about that night almost every night, with his hand shoved down his boxers and Negan's name on his lips. “Good boy. So?”

 

“I-I understand.” Carl is trying hard to calm his breathing, coming out in harsh puffs from his nose to keep from outright panting like the puppy Negan says he is.

 

“What do you understand?”

 

“I understand you're going to Hilltop.” He speaks slowly and carefully, barely able to stand being under such intense scrutiny while Negan's magic fingers work at his now leaking cock. How can he do that? How does Negan already have him so damn ready to burst? “But I don't understand why you lied.” Realizing how rude that sounded, he tacks on “About the date, I mean, sir.”

 

Negan just gives him an incredulous look, waiting for him to work it out for himself.

 

A switch flicks in the back of his mind and he mumbles out half question, half statement “Because...it was a test?”

 

Negan's gaze softens and he shrugs coolly. “Bingo! A test you half passed, half failed. Which, in all honesty, I kind of expected.”

 

“But why?” Carl pulls back to look up Negan.

 

“I wanted to see how you would react to the idea of me seeing other people, which bravo, you did brilliantly there, sweetheart. You were madder than a wet hen. But,” Negan chuckled and tightened his grip again and the only reason Carl isn't coming right there is because Negan hasn't said he could. “You ran out the door rather than talk to me about it and that? That shit will not fly, because if you want to be with me, like a month ago, communication is fuckin' key.”

 

Carl is reeling, barely holding it together. His mind is a tangled mess of desire and responsibility. Negan sounds like he wants to be with him? And wants to have a healthy relationship on top of that? But Negan's hand is still on his dick and he can't really process something so complex right now and he whimpers.

 

“Ah, shit...you're a teenager still...bet you're about ready to blow aren't you?” Negan purrs and he's so close again, Carl can feel his breath on his cheek. “Go ahead and come, baby.”

 

Its like the dam breaks with those few words and Carl is coming in his jeans with Negan's fingers milking him as best he can through the thick denim. He comes harder than he has in weeks and it makes him only a little annoyed that the reason is Negan. His chin falls to his chest and he moans before he can stop himself, forgetting Michonne and Judith are right downstairs. Carl is trembling and panting open mouthed when he finally stops coming, feeling exhausted and liquid-jointed.

 

“Damn. Forgot how pretty you are when you come.” Negan whispers against his temple just before placing a kiss there and Carl is preening at the praise and attention being afforded to him. “Now, you want to be good for me until I get back, right?” Carl nods along sleepily, wanting to lay his head on the older man's shoulder and take a nap. “Good boy. That means no touching, no coming, no _nothing_ until then. I'll be back before our shift tomorrow, am I understood?”

 

“Yes. I'll be good.” Even as he says it, Carl feels heat coiling low in his stomach and his spent cock gives an interested twitch. Its going to be a long twenty-four hours.

 

“Alright. I have to go. Change out of those clothes and think about what I told you, think of some questions you have. I'll see you later.” With that, the door opens and closes and Carl is once again left alone and confused.

 

So, Negan wanted him to talk and be open with him about his feelings. It felt weird, Carl never really talked to anyone about that sort of stuff, but maybe with practice he could learn. His instinct had always been to run when things got overwhelming, both with fighting the undead and with everyday interactions. He never thought anyone really cared so long as he looked fine and was able to hold a gun.

 

Carl had so many questions for Negan. Like what kind of relationship he wanted with him, what Negan expected of him, how they were supposed to act in public. He's never been public about any of his past “relationships.” The idea of them being open, holding hands, fuck, _kissing in public_ , made Carl's stomach flutter and his heart pound and he swallows hard at the thought. Would Negan want that? Or would Carl be his dirty little secret?

 

Sitting around in his room wasn't going to answer any of his questions or solve his problems, so he made himself get up and change and head downstairs to help Michonne or play with Judith.

 

“So,” Michonne starts as soon as he sets foot in the kitchen. “Are you guys alright? Negan said he thought he pissed you off or something along those lines. I think there were somehow more expletives involved when he said it.”

 

“Yeah,” Carl huffs a laugh, tugging absently at the hem of his shirt. “It's kinda my fault. I didn't stick around and try to talk to him about it. Just sort of booked it.”

 

“What was it?” Michonne keeps chopping the carrots and onions, adding them to the pot behind her. Smells like rabbit stew.

 

“Oh, uhm, it's nothing. No big deal.”

 

“I don't think 'no big deal' had you slamming the door and running upstairs to your room.” She fixes him with a knowing look, that same one she always used on him since they met forever ago that always gets him to confess to whatever he did or what was really on his mind. A small smile plays at her lips, pretending to be disinterested in what Carl had to say. “But, if you don't want to talk to me, your best friend, about it, I'd understand.”

 

“Michonne, that's not fair! Don't pull the best friend card on me!” Carl laughs.

 

“I'm just playing. You really don't have to say. I just wanted to make sure you were good.” Michonne smiles big and bright as she leans back against the counter. Her face slips into something more serious as she speaks again. “But, Carl, can I ask you something?”

 

Carl swallows hard, his heart rate spiking and nervousness wiggles around in his stomach leaving him queasy. He nods despite it all.

 

“I've noticed...this past month...you and Negan...” The older woman starts and stops, sharp eyes searching for nonexistent words written on the floor. “...you guys have gotten real close. I'm wondering, is there something there, Carl? Between you?”

 

It feels like any and all hope he had of brushing it off dies when Michonne's eyes meet his own wide blue one. He knows he's blushing and he couldn't stop it if he tried. He works his jaw, trying to find the words for what he wants to say, but can't seem to, mouth opening and closing uselessly a few times as he flounders.

 

“If there is...you know, that's okay right, Carl?” The look she gives him is nothing but genuinely kind and gentle. “The age difference is a little shocking, but you're an adult. And I want you to know, if there is something there, that I won't judge either of you for it.”

 

“R-really? You don't mind?” Carl feels torn between smiling and crying, so his body settles for a terrible inbetween where his voice cracks as the corners of his mouth try to lift upwards and his eye wells with tears. He'd never thought anyone would understand or accept the idea of them being a thing. Whatever they were or were going to become? That was all still confusing. “I mean, there's nothing going on right now. I don't even know exactly how he feels about me, but, uhm, I'm interested, I think.”

 

“I think it's pretty obvious how he feels.” Michonne chuckles and turns to stir the soup. “He'd probably die on the spot if I told you this, but he looked half scared to death when he came over and wanted to talk to you.” Carl can hardly imagine Negan being scared of anything let alone over him. “Carl,” She turns back to him, one eyebrow arched, gesturing at him with the spoon. “The man was _desperate_ to set things right with you.”

 

“Huh.” He bites his lip as he smiles. “Thanks for telling me.”

 

It doesn't sound right to his ears as she says it, but he knows Michonne wouldn't say anything like this if it weren't true. And she had proven to him multiple times how good she was at reading people and seeing through all the bullshit in a glance, so he carefully tucks this information away for later somewhere right around his fluttering heart.

 

///

 

The next evening came both too quickly and couldn't get there fast enough as Carl trudges towards the secluded guard tower on the far west wall, nearly a quarter mile from the center of town in a completely uninhabited area. It had been erected when they were able to finally expand the walls a few months ago. There probably wasn't much to worry about at this point, but after the attack from the Wolves a year ago, everyone wanted to be extra vigilant.

 

As he approaches, he realizes he's the first one there and slowly makes his way up the ladder, shotgun and pack slung over his shoulder, small electric lantern held in his free hand. He tries not to think about the fact that Negan said he would be here before their shift and situates himself on one of the wooden crates they use for chairs, turning off the lantern and settling in for a long shift.

 

It's nearly an hour later and Carl is starting to nod off when he hears a pitchy, tuneless whistle rising up from the blacked out ground. He glances over the edge of the railing, watching as Negan approaches with his usual confident gate and shimmies up the ladder. Negan offers him a smile and sits on the free crate beside him.

 

Neither of them say anything for a long moment. It feels like a contest, one Carl is determined to win. He feels like if he speaks, Negan will know he missed him and he isn't ready to let him know that.

 

“Are you really going back to giving me the cold shoulder? You remember what happened last time you pulled this, right?” Negan spoke as if Carl had done something to be reprimanded for when he was the one who had broken his word.

 

“Yeah, I vaguely recall.” Carl swallows hard, throat clicking.

 

“Vaguely?” Negan places a hand to his chest like he's hurt. “Carl, you wound me.”

 

“Yeah right,” Carl laughs sarcastically, rolling his eye. “You're still breathing and I don't see any blood. You're fine.”

 

“Damn, shut down by the ice queen.” His drawl seems to always lure Carl in lately, he doesn't fully understand why, but he thinks maybe he's starting to draw some sort of comfort from it's familiar timbre. He wants to be mad at himself for it, but he just can't quite seem to.

 

The quiet of the forest, the hush of wind through the tall grass, the whisper of a stream not far off, settles around them. As the sounds of crickets and frogs singing comes to a crescendo, Negan dampers the lantern, leaving the crisp sliver of the crescent moon as their only source of light. He remembers as a child how scared he'd been of the woods and the quiet, especially right after the outbreak. That first trip through the woods at night, all his senses were on high alert, every rustle, every rasp of a bramble against his bare arms had his pulse pounding in his ears. His heart sliding up his throat had been the only thing that stopped him from screaming. Now, though, it was different. Now, he found solace and comfort in the dark that blanketed everything. It was a place he could hide, if only for a moment, when everything got too loud.

 

“What're you thinkin' about?” Negan's eyes glimmer as the moonlight catches them. It's too dim for Carl to make out much more than the older man's outline as a cloud passes over the moon.

 

“About how I'm not afraid anymore.” Carl turns his attention back to the forest, eye catching on the small movement of an owl settling on a pine bow. “I used to hate the dark, but now, not so much.”

 

“Mm,” Negan hums quietly, following Carl's line of sight out the the trees, pausing before he speaks. “Just another sign of growing up.”

 

“I guess.” Carl's voice sounds distant and detached to his own ears, a little unsettled by how odd it sounds. “But it feels like there's still so much I don't know...and probably never will.” He's not sure if he says it out loud or not, but he must've because Negan is turning towards him again. “There's so much...grown up stuff...I just can't wrap my head around it.”

 

“Like what?” Negan moves in a little closer but refrains from touching him and Carl can't decide if he likes that or not.

 

“Like...what you want from me.” He mumbles to the denim covering his thighs, suddenly too shy to make eye contact. “The fucking I get, anyone can rub their dick in or on something and have a good time, but this whatever else you're asking of me, I don't understand.”

 

“Rub their dick in or on something, huh?” Negan chuckles and it's kind of charming until he lets out another of those damn, deep down sighs. “There's not much to get, baby doll. If you're open with me, I'm open with you. You trust me, I trust you. It's really very simple. All the other details we can work out in time.”

 

“Yeah, I get that and I understood what you meant when you said it, but I guess, I'm having a hard time understanding why.” That was the epitome of all of this wasn't it? Negan's motivations and expectations? Negan wanted something from him that wasn't just fucking and Carl can't seem to wrap his head around the why.

 

“Because that's how healthy relationships work.” The way Negan says it is so nonchalant so simple with a shrug of his shoulders.

 

“But...that is what you want? I'm not just going to be your...”

 

“My what?”

 

“You're dirty little secret.” Carl finally manages to look up at him, willing away the nervousness slipping oily around in his gut.

 

“Dirty, yes. Little, yes. Secret, well, that depends on you.” The older man slouches forward, forearms resting on his knees. “Really, it's more like, do you want me to be _your_ dirty little secret, Carl?”

 

Carl's holding his breath without even realizing it until he lets it out, cheeks puffing with the blustery gust of it past his lips. It hadn't even occurred to him that things were actually the other way around, that this whole time, Negan had really been keeping distance between them for Carl's benefit instead of his own like he had initially told him. He just assumed it was self preservation and he couldn't really blame him for that. No one wants to be out there on there own, hoping and praying to find shelter and enough food to live another day. But this, this was backwards to everything he's been considering and he realizes too how much power he has over Negan. It's kind of heady, being in control of so much raw power.

 

“N-no. I wouldn't want that. For you or for me.” Carl finally manages to make his mouth work. He feels so off-kilter, the exchange between them worlds away from what it had been just a month ago. “But maybe...all that other stuff could be.” Heat rises up to Carl's cheeks as he recalls, in vivid detail, the way Negan's eyes had sparkled when he'd begged and called him 'sir'.

 

“Other stuff?” Heavy brows knit together in consternation, trying to puzzle through what Carl had just told him.

 

“Yeah...you know. The _other_ stuff...” He's getting a little agitated with how dumb Negan is acting. He has to know what he means. “Do I really need to spell it out for you?”

 

“I'm afraid you're going to have to, sweetheart.” And there it is—that lazy drawl, that smug grin, the too confident way he takes up whole spaces, hazel eyes alight with mischief. They've only known each other for a brief period of time, but Carl knows that look and knows that Negan is fucking with him.

 

Carl decides to play along for his own amusement. “The calling you sir stuff...” He lilts his voice to sound innocent and soft, that tone that usually snares men weaker than Negan in a snap. “...you telling me what to do stuff...” Growing bolder by the moment, Carl slips to his knees and sits between Negan's spread legs, hands resting on his strong thighs. “...the you fucking my throat raw and threatening to fuck me with nothing but spit for lube, bossing me around stuff...”

 

Negan lets out a sound that isn't human, some deep, dangerous growl as every muscle in his large frame tenses like he's ready to pounce. Carl can't see his face clearly, but he knows if he could, those hazel eyes would be gleaming with that something wild Carl has been itching to see again so badly. He forces himself to sit perfectly still, like how a rabbit fearing for its life becomes as unmoving as a statue; he knows the minute he moves, its _over_.

 

“There was something else I wanted to talk to you about, but darlin' with you on your goddamn knees in front of me, I can't remember single fuckin' word.” Negan reaches out, large hand gliding along Carl's jaw and further back to his hair. He holds steady eye contact with Carl before his hand closes in a fist and he's jerking Carl back by his hair, creating a exaggerated arc in his spine. “I think we should take a break from all the chit chat and do something a little more fun, don't you?”

 

Carl tries to nod but can't without tugging painfully on his hair. He licks his lips, a small smile playing at his lips as he speaks. “Yes, please...sir.”

 

“Very nice, still using those impeccable manners, aren't you, boy?” Leaning in closer, Negan traces the edges of Carl's lips with his tongue then licks across them with the broad flat of his tongue. Normally, Carl would find it kinda gross, but now, it feels possessive and filthy in all the right ways, has him whimpering through his nose for more. “So pretty and eager to get down on your knees for me...”

 

“Open.” Negan commands and Carl snaps his mouth open. “Tongue out.” It takes a moment and he feels embarrassed doing it, but slowly his tongue slips out. He starts when Negan's tongue caresses his, much like he had with his lips, just the very tip gently tapping along his palette, but then he _sucks_ on it and a moan is rolling up out of him before he can stop it. Negan chuckles at that and gives his cheek a light slap.

 

Suddenly, he's being hauled to his feet none too gently, Negan's rough hands sliding under his arms and lifting him up. He knows better, but Carl struggles against it anyways, tries to sink himself back into kneeling, some small part of him wanting to entice Negan into action; he's tired of being treated gently, sick to death with it.

 

“Stop that shit right now.” Negan orders once he's got Carl upright, using that low voice that leaves no room for argument and holds Carl still with a firm grip on his hips.

 

Carl swallows hard and juts his chin forward. “ _Make me._ ”

 

“Oh, baby boy, I know what game you're playing at and it's not going to work on me.” Dark hazel eyes glint silver with the light of the moon and Carl is throbbing in his jeans. “Want to know why?”

 

“Why?” He asks with a feigned disinterest, as if he weren't just about shaking in his boots over the possibilities of what this man could do to him. What he _wanted_ him to do to him.

 

“Because, little sweetheart like you?” Negan's grin is almost malicious as he drags Carl into his lap, legs spread wide open over his, facing away from him so he can whisper in his ear. “You might act like a little baby whore, a glutton for punishment and greedy for dick, but I think, deep down,” The drawl of his voice is rich with that laid back confidence Carl found so intoxicating and it makes him shiver. “you wanna be a good little boy... _my_ good little boy.”

 

He wants to deny it but his mouth betrays him and instead he replies with a breathless “yes”, gasping when Negan's hand slips inside his jeans teasing at his rapidly hardening cock. “Fuck....”

 

“Love to, darlin', but you haven't earned that right yet. You'll just have to make do with my hand.” The way it comes out sounding like a threat goes straight to Carl's dick; he feels Negan grin against his neck when he twitches in his hand. Large fingers push past his lips and toy with his tongue, forcing him to let out all the moans and whimpers he's been holding back. “And then...I'm gonna fuck that pretty mouth of yours.”

 

That does it for him. He's spent so long pining from a distance, he comes to the thought of Negan's cock in his mouth. Its embarrassing how long he lasted, five minutes tops and shame colors his cheeks as he comes down from his high.

 

“S-sorry,” he pants out, tasting the scent of petrichor on his tongue when the wind whips through the grass.

 

“Not yet you're not.” Negan grounds out, pressing his hips more firmly into Carl's backside, making him more aware than ever of the heavy length pushing up against him. “But if you're apologizing for this?” He lifts his hand and shows Carl his own spend, creamy white over tanned skin making his spent dick twitch. “Don't. I wanted to make you come fast...wanted you all sleepy and pliant for what I want to do to you.”

 

It's really not fair how fast Negan can get him wound up like this, his body responding instantly to his touch, his voice, his scent. He only feels vaguely mad at himself for how easily he allows Negan to maneuver his lax form back down between his spread legs. He doesn't fight it when Negan pries his mouth open with his thumb and rubs back and forth over the slick muscle inside.

 

“Just made for this, aren't you? Made to be all sweet and submissive.” Carl's hackles rise at being called submissive, he's never been considered that a day in his life, but he can't really argue when the older man's thumb is hooked in his mouth and he's drooling all over and sucking on it like he wants more.

 

The sound of Negan's zipper sliding down draws him from his thoughts and then that cock, that thick ridiculously huge cock he's been fantasizing about is right before his lips. He watches intently as Negan pumps his heavy length, the foreskin rolling away from the head. He flicks his eye up to Negan's face, looking up through his lashes; Negan might not be able to see it clearly, but hopefully enough that the message gets across.

 

“Want to suck this cock, honey?” The words roll right off his tongue, smoke rich and heavy.

 

“Yes.” Carl mumbles around the finger in his mouth.

 

“I want to hear you say it...” Negan slips his thumb from Carl's mouth. “...ask me real nicely. I know you know how.”

 

Carl's pulse is pounding in his ears and he's fighting his every instinct not to say the words he's been reciting in the deep of the night when he's aching and thinking of the man before him. He swallows hard, throat clicking.

 

“Please, Negan...let me suck your cock, sir. I want it so bad.” His own voice surprises him with how needy and absolutely wrecked it sounds. “I want you to fuck my throat again, please, I want it, Negan.”

 

“Damn, baby, you are desperate for it aren't you?” Negan chuckles around his words and Carl feels his cheeks heat with shame. “Good. That's how I want it to be. Now open wide, darlin'.”

 

Instantly, Carl obeys, jaw dropping and opening his mouth wide. Negan slides a hand around the back of his head, fingernails scratching pleasantly at his nape while he slowly feeds Carl his thick member. The taste of him is amazing, lighting up Carl's tastebuds like fireworks. Precum glides along and coats his tongue, thick and sticky and so so sweet until the head of Negan's cock hits the back of his throat.

 

Negan seems content for a while to just rock shallowly into his mouth, a few inches near the base left uncovered. His head falls back as he thrusts his hips lazily, groaning throaty and low and Carl clenches his fists where they rest on his knees. That weird, sickening pride wells up in him again at seeing how he effects this man and he tries to watch him as best he can while remaining easy and pliant for Negan to use as he pleases.

 

Negan's head tips down and Carl can barely make out the gleam of his white teeth, the smile of a big bad wolf stretching his lips wide and he knows what's going to happen, but he still isn't prepared for it when Negan fists his hair again and pistons his hips forward, shoving his cock down Carl's throat. Carl tries not to gag and choke, but it's impossible with how large Negan is.

 

“Fuck yeah...love seeing you gag on my dick, baby.” Negan purrs, running the tip of his finger along the corner of Carl's mouth, smearing spit along his cheek. Carl looks up at him with a watery eye and his stomach flips at how proud Negan looks; who knows if he means it or if that's what he's really thinking, but Carl chooses to interpret the hungry glint in his eye that way.

 

An ache builds up in his jaw as Negan fucks into his mouth in long, deep strokes, pulling back and giving him just a second to catch his breath before he's pushing forward again. Carl does his best to relax his throat even as his vision starts to go a little hazy on the edges and he gets lightheaded when Negan pauses down his throat for a beat too long.

 

“Don't pass out on me now, Princess...I ain't done yet.” Negan purrs amusedly. He withdraws enough to let Carl take a few heaving breaths. “You're doin' so good for me...but I know you could do even better.”

 

The compliment makes Carl feel like he's soaring in his fucked out state of half consciousness and he's even more eager to please than before. He hums his want to do better all garbled and wet and Negan pats his cheek roughly.

 

Negan stays only half in Carl's mouth, grasping his cheeks and smooshing them together with two fingers and his thumb and Carl can't figure out why until he starts moving again and groans out how good it feels and he realizes he's making himself something even tighter to fuck into. And that really shouldn't be as hot as it is, but fuck, Carl feels himself growing harder in his jeans. Then Negan is sliding two fingers into his mouth alongside his cock and Carl is gone, lips stretched painfully wide and loving every second of it.

 

“Ready for me to come down that tight little throat of yours?” The question isn't meant to be answered, not really, because Negan is still filling his mouth and sliding further back again.

 

The fingers come out of Carl's mouth and suddenly, both of Negan's hands are winding around Carl's head, cradling him into some sort of embrace and Carl is trapped between it and the length down his throat. He can't breathe like this but he isn't as worried about it as he probably should be, not when Negan is whispering how good he's being, how good he feels, to him in a rough voice that sounds almost pained.

 

“Fuck, so proud 'a you, angel.” Negan grounds out as his cock twitches and his release starts pouring down Carl's throat, thick and copious. He pulls back even though he's still coming, dragging his spend along the back to the tip of Carl's tongue as he does so, letting the boy take in some much needed oxygen.

 

“F-fuck...” Carl barely manages to catch himself with one hand before he completely collapses onto the platform. His voice is all scratchy and his jaw and throat hurts, but he's still riding the high of praise and doing a job well done. He's floating and can't think straight to save his life, luckily, like last time, Negan takes the lead and turns the lantern on low and starts cleaning him up with a surprisingly gentle touch, pressing a kiss or two to his slick, plumped lips.

 

“Shit, kid, I got a little carried away there.” The lantern light is blinding to Carl's eye and he can't seem to focus, but even still, he can make out the lines of Negan's face, sees the worry there and it's almost touching in a really fucked up kind of way. Negan gently massages Carl's throat as he wipes his face clean with a handkerchief from his back pocket. “You still in there?”

 

“Y-yeah...just all...” Carl waves his hand trying to explain the really weird warm and floaty place he's in right now. He doesn't fight it when Negan pulls him up back into his lap, sideways this time with his head resting on his strong chest, and starts petting his hair in slow, measured strokes. He sighs and leans into the touch. “Why are you being nice this time?”

 

“Because I'm trying to build something this time, kid. Did you think I was just gonna clean you up and send you on your way?” Carl just gives him a look as if to say 'that's exactly what you did last time' and Negan laughs. “Alright, alright, last time I didn't leave you with the best impression, but were you looking to build some sort of soul deep, let's braid each other's hair bond with me? Yeah, I didn't think so. It's different this time because we're different this time. I've gotten to know you and I happen to like ya, Carl.”

 

“Mm,” Carl hums not sure how to feel about this turn of events, this tender, nice Negan. He hadn't expected this after such intense, rough play even in the best case scenarios he pictured while he thought over Negan's proposal yesterday; he half expected to be set aside, told to sober up and then they would be affectionate at other times, holding hands while they walked through Alexandria, sharing kisses in the gazebo by the pond, like he thought about. Part of him can't deny it's nice, having a big broad chest to lay his head on while someone holds him like he hasn't been held in years, but then again it makes him feel thrown off, vulnerable in a way he's not entirely sure he likes.

 

“This okay? I can stop.” Negan asks with sincerity in his silky, baritone voice, hand pausing it's comforting petting.

 

“Y-yeah...yeah, it's fine...for now.”

 


End file.
